Taking Control
by Super-Mogils
Summary: 8th year at Hogwarts. Voldemort is dead. What happens when a drunken and horny Harry stumbles across a tall and delicious-looking blond in the corridors one evening? Only good things.  Warning! BDSM themes in later chapters!  No flames please.


**A/N:** Because every Drarry author needs that one "clichéd-8th-year-when-MoldyWart-threat-is-gone-and-all-Harry-and-Draco-need-to-worry-about-is-acceptance-from-their-peers-and-acceptance-of-themselves-and-falling-in-twoo-luv" story in their inventory. So WAH-BANG! Here's mine =)

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter. However, I am organizing a rather elaborate plot to kidnap J.K Rowling and make her write sequels of the Harry Potter books for me until the end of time…but more on that later =)

**Chapter 1**

"Er, Harry, should you really be drinking so much?" Ron inspected the rather disheveled state of his best friend with worry. Harry had been knocking back shot after shot of Firewhiskey ever since the 8th year party in the Room of Requirement had begun.

Every other weekend or so, ever since the beginning of term, the Hogwarts "8th years'', as they called themselves, would gather in the Room of Requirement for a night of drinking, dancing, and—if one was lucky—hot hormonal action.

This night was no exception. However, for Harry Potter, it was a night of mostly drinking. At each and every party, he managed to drink just enough to incapacitate himself enough that any dancing or hooking up would be impossible. His friends worried about him, but Harry continuously assured them that the drinking was just his way of dealing with the still-lingering pain from the losses of the war. That usually shut them up, as they had no other means of comfort for the boy. However, this didn't mean that they tried any less to dissuade him from consuming such vast amounts of alcohol.

"'M fine, Won-Won," Harry giggled at Ron's scowl when he used what had been Lavender Brown's pet name for him in 6th year, "Jus' loosenin' up." Harry swayed non-rhythmically to the music that was pounding throughout the room. Ron grimaced at his friend's antics and was still looking on with disgust as his girlfriend appeared at his side.

"So he's at it again, is he?" Hermione asked in a tone low enough for only Ron to hear, although she was fairly sure Harry wouldn't register what she was saying even if he did hear her.

"Is he ever not?" Ron replied gravely. Hermione nodded knowingly before stepping up to confront her inebriated friend.

"Harry I think you've had enough," she said sternly, using a tone she had acquired from spending so much time around Molly Weasley.

"N'ver enough, Herm…Her-my-knee!" Harry crowed joyfully, throwing his arms up in the air, Firewhiskey in hand. The action caused the boy to stumble a bit, sloshing the half-empty bottle.

"Harry…" Hermione thought about just shooting him her customary 'I-wish-you-woudn't-drink-so-much' look before she changed her mind. Squaring her shoulders, she reached out and snatched the bottle out of Harry's hand. The green-eyed teen blinked for a second, then looked at the hand that the bottle had previously been held in. It seemed to take a while for him to understand that it had been taken away from him. However, when he finally realized this, he got angry.

"Wha' the hell, Her-my-knee!" he bellowed, angrily stepping forward. Before he could make another move though, he was face-to-chest with a very protective-looking Ron.

"Don't do anything I'll have to hurt you for, mate," Ron said, using his arm to pull Hermione further behind him so he could more effectively shield her in case Harry tried to lash out. The girl was thankful because at that moment, her eyes brimmed with tears and she hid her face in her boyfriend's sweater, the bottle of Firewhiskey still clutched in her hand.

Harry was glaring at Ron but the taller boy apparently was looking rather intimidating tonight because Harry soon stepped back, scowl still firmly in place.

"Fine," he muttered, "I'm goin'," and with that, he was stalking off towards the exit.

Ron stood his ground until he lost sight of Harry in the large throng of people, before turning to wrap his arms around his sobbing girlfriend.

"Shh, it's okay, Hermione. You did the right thing," he whispered into her hair.

However, as he looked out again across the room, Ron started to feel quite unsettled by Hermione's actions and Harry's subsequent departure. The usual routine had been shaken up, thrown off. There was no longer a guarantee that Harry would end up passed out on the Common Room carpet tomorrow morning. Merlin only knew where the boy would wander off to tonight.

XXX

Harry angrily pushed his way through the drunkenly swaying bodies, trying to get out of the room. Who did Hermione think she was, trying to take away his only escape? His anger rose higher the longer it took to find his way to the door.

Finally, the exit was in sight. He wasn't sure where he would storm off to but he knew he didn't want to be here any longer. Just as he was about to race to the door however, Harry spotted a few Slytherins casting discreet glances around the room before huddling up around some object. Harry's eyes narrowed at the group before he stomped over to them, determined to find out what the snakes were plotting now.

"Wha' are you lot schemin'?" he accused as he shoved a startled Blaise Zabini aside in order to get a better look at what the group had gathered around. Harry's eyes fell upon an open bottle of Firewhiskey in the hands of a very guilty-looking Pansy Parkinson. The girl quickly schooled her features into a scowl, not bothering to hide the bottle since Harry had already seen it.

"What business is it of yours, _Potter?_" she sneered resentfully. "Can't the Slytherins partake in the festivities as well?"

Harry wasn't listening to her. All he saw was the bottle of alcohol in her hands. He licked his lips in remembrance of the bottle that was taken from him mere moments ago. He seized his chance to continue where he had left off before Hermione had gone and ruined his fun. In a flash, Harry snatched the Firewhiskey out of Pansy's hands.

"I'm confiscatin' this," he snarled. Before they could raise any protests, he was ambling towards the exit again. It was getting too loud in here anyway. He wanted to go somewhere to drink in peace.

Finally he made it out of the Room of Requirement. As he leaned against the closed door behind him, Harry took a swig of the commandeered Firewhiskey. An uncharacteristic shudder raced down his spine as the liquid settled in his stomach and his body broke out in a sweat. His inebriated mind didn't think much of it, and he took another swig. The heat under his skin intensified and his lips tingled. He needed…. something….He was sweating even more and it became so unbearable that he shed his shirt without a thought, stuffing it in his back pocket. The article of clothing dangled against his jean-clad leg, as he couldn't fit the whole thing in his pocket. With another sip, he ambled off in no particular direction, hoping to shake off the weird and abnormal feeling he was getting from the drink.

XXX

Draco Malfoy was staring out one of the windows that looked out across the Quidditch Pitch on the seventh floor. He had promised Blaise and Pansy that he would attend the 8th year party but he had yet to enter the Room of Requirement. He had yet to go to any of the parties thus far this year. Too many bad memories in that room….

Ever since term had started for the "8th years" Draco had been fairly detached from the rest of his peers. While he still maintained his superior attitude and sarcastic tone, he was less vicious, less cruel. After the war he had been expecting to be thrown into Azkaban before the dead bodies could even be collected. He had been expecting to have received The Kiss by now, destined to wander as a soulless body forever. But no, Harry Sodding Potter had saved him with his testimony at Draco's trial. He had defended Draco, claiming that he had been forced into service to Lord Voldemort by threat of death. Harry had saved him from Azkaban, saved him from The Kiss, saved his life…

That's twice now.

Despite Harry's noble and valiant actions, Draco still couldn't bring himself to be civil with the boy. Granted, he wasn't as cruel as he had been in previous years and he certainly wasn't spouting pureblood rights anymore. However, being around the Boy-Who-Just-Wouldn't-Bleeding-Die made Draco…itch. The other boy seemed to always have such control in his life and Draco…Draco had been pushed around and ordered what to do for as long as he could remember. Of course, Draco didn't let anyone tell him what to do anymore. His father was disgraced and the Dark Lord was dead. However, that didn't make him hate the Chosen One any less. Draco felt the violent urge to break the other boy, make him scramble for purchase for just once in his bloody life. Show him what it felt like to feel like the reigns were being handed over to someone else, what it felt like to be a tool, a puppet for someone else. But alas, he could do nothing. Not if he wanted to stay out of Azkaban. All he could do was brood and make derisive and sarcastic comments to the scar-faced teen.

So here he was, glaring out across the Hogwarts grounds, trying to tell himself that he should just go to the party, drink himself silly, and find a nice hot pair of lips to plant himself on. But he just couldn't do it. The very idea of losing control in a haze of alcohol, of dropping his grip on his actions and emotions…. it was unbearable.

No, he wouldn't be attending the party tonight. He would go back to the Common Room and find a book to read.

However, just as he was about to turn and start the long journey back down to the dungeons, he felt two strong arms wrap around his torso and a pair of hot lips press next to his ear.

"Hey there, lover," a familiar voice breathed.

Draco froze.

"Potter?"

XXX

As Harry ambled down the corridor with Firewhiskey in hand, the odd burning sensation had continued to run rampant throughout his body. It wasn't unpleasant but it wasn't fantastically comfortable either. It was like a lot of energy was building up inside of him, but he didn't know how to release it.

Taking another sip of the alcohol, Harry went to turn the corner…

…and stopped in his tracks.

There, standing in the moonlight, was Draco Malfoy.

Harry felt a spike of lust rocket through him at the sight of his childhood nemesis.

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the after-party buzz. Maybe it was the high of not fearing Voldemort at every turn in his life anymore. Or maybe it was just that Draco Malfoy looked so damn _good_ standing there, with his hair gleaming in the light that was filtering in through the window, his posture confident and sexy, his eyes silver and piercing and holding in them a spark of danger. Whatever it was, it made Harry want to devour the blond aristocrat on sight…

The next thing he knew, he was pressing himself up against Draco's back; wrapping his arms around the strong, muscular torso; inhaling the other boy's scent and letting it send his brain into a pleasant buzz; then, feeling bold and lustful and not at all like himself, Harry brought his lips to the now rigid Slytherin's ear and whispered in a sultry voice, "Hey there, lover."

A fraction of a second passed and then….

"Potter?"

**A/N: **Well I hope you guys liked it =) I have a horrible habit of starting stories and never managing to finish them so if you guys like this I will need MUCH encouragement. If not then this story will never be finished and that's just no bueno so review guys!


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